


Tight Space

by cinereous



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Knifeplay, M/M, Masturbation, One Shot, PWP, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 06:39:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16080557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinereous/pseuds/cinereous
Summary: During a particularly boring shift at Crossroads, Akira finds himself in the company of an extremely unexpected visitor with an intriguing cure for the boredom that so ails him.





	Tight Space

**Author's Note:**

  * For [habenaria_radiata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/habenaria_radiata/gifts).



    Crossroads has been somewhat slow tonight. Given it's a super exciting Tuesday night, that isn't surprising, but it does mean that Akira is bored to death. They've only had two customers tonight. Lala has been over at their table schmoozing for the last hour, leaving Akira behind the bar to boredly knock back glasses of soda and balance silverware on glasses.  
  
    Outside it is drizzling heavily. Akira can just barely make out the sound of it on the pavement through the music, which just goes to show how quiet it is inside. To pass the time, he's slam dunked soda and invented an odd and savage new sort of art that involved stabbing lemon peels with an ice pick, but after his sixth glass, he finally feels the siren call to go to the bathroom.  
  
    A quick glance around proves that it wouldn't hurt. He shifts to take off his apron and slides into the back room. In the bathroom, he lethargically goes about his business, listening to the splutter of the fluorescent light overhead. They need to fix it soon; it's threatening to go out, but it gets overlooked night after night.  
  
    As he's zipping his pants back up, Akira turns around in the stall. He barely registers a male shape behind him before the lights snuff out, and he finds himself slammed into the metal side of the stall.  
  
    He can admit to giving a scream, but it doesn't matter as a gloved hand claps over his mouth, and Akira struggles in the dark against the wall.  
  
    The light makes a few vague 'plink' sounds and dimly shudders back to life, throwing the restroom into unimaginably low lighting. But he doesn't need it. There is absolutely no mistaking who is in this stall with him.  
  
    It is himself. Or rather, it's Joker.  
  
    He tries to ask, 'how are you here?', but his words are muffled and incomprehensible against Joker's palm. His hand is strong where it grips against his face, and the smell of leather, smoke, and cologne fills his nose.   
  
    Joker slowly smirks in this dim, sinister lighting. Akira watches as he lifts his other hand to press a finger against his own lips. It's bizarrely attractive. He nods slowly, as if he doesn't trust his double not to kill him and take over his life. A moment later the hand leaves his mouth, and Akira takes a greedy gulp of fresh air.  
  
    "Why are you here? _How_ are you here?"  
  
    "Does it matter? I am," Joker says back, his tone almost teasing as he begins to glide his fingers through Akira's hair. It's way too comfortable and forward. Akira hasn't had anyone touch him this way in a very long time. Just the sensation of his leatherclad fingers along the nape of his neck sends shivers spiraling down his spine.  
  
    "Yes, it matters. This is reality. How are you here?" he manages to say, attempting to stand up straight, but Joker's feet are planted in just the right way that it's impossible to get any good footing that would allow him to do so. Instead, he is forced to lean against the stall.  
  
    Joker just shrugs and goes to very slowly slide out of his coat. It's heavy, which Akira knows from experience, and as he sees his own arms come into view, he can't help but wonder whether he's really looking that muscular these days.  
  
    The jacket falls towards the grimy floor, but Akira is shocked as it disappears into smoke just before it makes impact with the tile. Holy shit. He's using magic in the real world!  
  
    The next moment, he is about to ask him yet again how he is here, but a bright glint of silver catches his eye as Joker unsheathes his dagger.  Cold steel is suddenly pressed against his neck, and the kiss of metal makes Akira hiss on impact. He knows his eyes have gone wide to an unflattering degree as he stares back at Joker with surprise.  
  
    "What are you doing?"  
  
    "Teasing you."  
  
    It's such a cheeky response that he finds himself utterly speechless in reaction. That...that sounds dirty! Akira squirms against the wall, trying to get his crotch further away from Joker's knee in that moment. One wrong move and that blade could sink into his neck, and Akira is not at all ready to deal with this.  
  
    "Right. W-why?" he asks, cursing himself as he can't even get that simple word out without his voice faltering. Where is his bravery in this situation? Oh, that's right. Probably all in fucking _Joker_.  
  
    "So nervous," Joker croons, dragging the chilled blade further along his skin and up, grazing the line of his jaw with the blunt side of it. "You can lie to everyone around you, Akira, but you can't lie to me. I am you. I can feel every single bit of your exhaustion and frustration and loneliness."  
  
    At the tail end of his words, his knee shifts and presses upwards, causing Akira to exhale crazily as he feels him nudge up against his crotch so delicately. His body runs wild without his permission, heat shooting down into his stomach lightning fast.  
  
    The dagger moves then, and Akira watches as Joker uses it to slip beneath the hem of his shirt and slowly lift it, the very point of it tickling and scraping up the middle of his abdomen. It's almost as if electricity is following the blade; Akira's breath feels stuck in his throat as he stares at Joker with increasing panic and lust.  
  
    "I need to go back to work."  
  
    "In a minute. This won't take long. We both know it's deserted," Joker chuckles. As if reminded of the time, however, Joker seems to get a more serious set to his brow as red hands dip down. Akira's heart stops beating entirely as he watches Joker go to unbutton his jeans.   
  
    "You- we _can't_. You're me. It's weird. It's-"  
  
    "It's _fine_. Nobody is here to see you or me, and it's really nothing more than some very, very creative masturbation. You don't really want me to stop. Do you? You know I don't even need you to answer. Even if I wasn't you and privy to your thoughts, I can still _feel_ you."  
  
    As if to prove as much, his gloved hand plunges down the front of his now open fly. Akira's head makes a soft 'crack' against the wall as he lets it fall backwards violently amid a loud moan for his audience of no one.  
  
    "Good. Are we in agreement then?"  
  
    Akira doesn't answer. He doubts it would matter even if he did. Instead, he just tries to keep breathing as if he has forgotten how to do so. Joker slides his jeans and his underwear down his hips until they bunch low on his thighs and leave him incredibly exposed. The bite of the metal wall against his ass is a potent reminder of how lewd he must look.  
  
    From nearby, he hears Lala's voice. It comes closer and closer to the door, and he hears their storage room next door opened. The whole time, his heart beats painfully against his ribcage. What if they're caught? What if Lala comes in and finds him with his pants down and Joker poised in front of him with a knife?  
  
    Joker doesn't seem to mind the terror at all. Instead, he smirks deeply and shifts forward to nuzzle at Akira's ear. The sensation sends shockwaves of pleasure all over his body and causes his toes to curl in his shoes.  
  
    "It would be so easy to catch you in the act right now.  You're so inappropriate. What good boy has his dick out while on the clock?"  
  
    Every whispered word into his ear is like a sexual knife into his stomach, and Akira gives the tiniest of little whines before he hears Lala walk away back towards the front. Fuck, that had been so close! If she had just-...  
  
    Akira's mind rears to a screeching halt as he feels Joker gently kick his feet further apart, and suddenly cold metal is being pressed against his perineum.   
  
    "F-fuck, what are you-!?" he hisses under his breath, looking down. He has never been more turned on in his life than to see Joker clutching his dagger upside down by the quillon and pushing the blunt edge of the pommel up against his body.  
  
    He goes entirely hard in an instant. Akira rushes to slap his hand over his own mouth in horrified panic to cover up the deep and ridiculous moan that leaves him. Staring down at a loss, he watches his own thighs shake as his knees buckle. He is appalled to find that he slides his legs yet further apart without hesitation.  
  
    "Look at you. And you were so afraid earlier," Joker croons, and the chuckle he gives against his ear is just as hot and silken as smoke.   
  
    Fingers slide up into his hair, causing Akira to sigh with pleasure at how pleasant that is in combination to the hard metal currently digging in to such sensitive skin. He is already rocking against it, and it's so fucking embarrassing it's unreal.  
  
    The fingers go wire tight in his hair, causing Akira to cry out before he is unceremoniously being jerked around and shoved face first against the metal wall. Akira dumbly clings to the wall in search of something to hang on to and finds nothing. He can only watch his breath fog up along the metal beneath his face, and his fingers slip along the flat surface.   
  
    The pommel is still there, maddening and so good, and Akira's mind is nothing but fire and a jumble of swear words.  
  
    "Look at you. Not so good after all," Joker teases at his back. When Akira opens his mouth to respond, two leather covered fingers are shoved into his mouth. Whatever the material is, it doesn't have any taste, but the texture is buttery soft against his tongue. The idea of biting down, of leaving little indents of teeth in the leather, makes his mind go hot in an instant.  
  
    Without even a thought towards how utterly brazen and sexual it is, Akira hungrily twines his tongue around the fingers and sucks heavily with a moan just quiet enough not to get them caught. As if to reward him, the pommel digs upwards more, and Akira cannot help the way he grinds his hips forward to get _any_ kind of friction.  
  
    "Don't be stupid, Akira. You have hands," Joker says on a faint scoff. Akira doesn't even get mad. He rushes a hand down to wrap around his cock with heavenly relief.  
  
    As Joker slips his fingers free, Akira actually moans in loss, looking over his shoulder with his pupils blown wide and his lips still damp. "I'm-"  
  
    "I know. Shh. I'm here to take care of you."  
  
    What that means, Akira isn't sure, but he gets a very, very good idea when he feels a fingertip begin to breach him.   
  
    "Oh _fuck_!" he gasps, pressing his sweaty forehead to the wall and drowning his sounds into his own palm as best he can. His other hand hastily squeezes down on the base of his cock, and he can feel the head brush and smear precome along the metal wall. He grinds indecently forward only to push back his hips for more.  
  
    Joker, for all of his teasing and rudeness, doesn't seem to be in the mood to make him work for it. His finger plunges forward without so much as a warning, going all the way to the knuckle in one smooth movement and then immediately pulling out.   
  
    Akira's mind is an explosion. It's all bright colors, blood rushing in his ears so loudly it may as well be a sonic boom, and fireworks of pure pleasure burst across his body. Joker doesn't even fucking _wait_ for him to adjust before suddenly it is two fingers pushing into him. The stretch burns and makes him give a sound that is practically inhuman before he cuts it off by biting into his own knuckle.  
  
    He's not sure what he's babbling, but Akira can guess that he's begging under his breath as Joker lays into him. He fucks him with his fingers without an ounce of fear or concern, pushing mercilessly against his prostate while at the same time pressing the pommel of his dagger harder into his perineum.  
  
    The combined sensation is the most intense thing Akira has ever experienced. His fist is flying over his cock on complete autopilot as his body jerks and bucks. Sweat pours down his neck and his thighs shake precariously under his weight.  
  
    Akira can just imagine what he looks like. What it would look like if Lala opened the door. With Joker gone, he would simply be leaning against the wall and madly touching himself with his legs spread and his ass presented out.  
  
    Just that alone is enough to send a huge wave of pleasure down his spine that causes Akira to cry out too loudly. Joker takes that moment to bite down on his ear, and it is _everything_.  
  
    Orgasm hits him with such force, he can practically feel it like a punch. His whole body surges forward like an ocean wave hitting his back, and Akira shakes and thrashes as the pleasure pummels through him beautifully. It drags on far longer than he expects, entire galaxies of stars winking and snuffing out along his skin and in his veins until at long last, Akira peels himself off of the wall.  
  
    His skin sticks to it with sweat, and he wobbles very intensely as if he might collapse at any moment. The metal stall wall in front of him is dirtied and indecent, the viscous remains of his pleasure slowly oozing down. Akira huffs and pants there with the swiftly dawning realization that he just fucking did this while at work.  
  
    "O-oh god."  
  
    "You can call me Joker," the voice behind him replies, and Akira chuckles goofily and shivers as his body starts to go cold. Red fingers slide around his waist and begin pulling up his pants and sweetly buttoning them with all of the deftness a thief would afford to picking a lock.  
  
    "You can also thank me later. Enjoy the rest of your evening," Joker goes on. Akira is about to ask him why he was here one last time, but the balmy kiss to his ear makes his whole body shudder. The next moment, his sweaty back feels cold, and he knows Joker has disappeared.  
  
    Akira unsteadily stands up straight, righting his shirt and gently pulling it from his chest to let some air rush against his skin. Some toilet paper cleans up the mess and, as Akira exits the stall, he can see his face in the mirror. He's flushed as hell and his hair is a bit wild, but otherwise he'd pass as normal.   
      
    What really gets him is the splash of bright red and black against the mirror. Stuffed into the mounting frame...is a fucking calling card.  
  
    Akira snatches it like it would suddenly set the room on fire, and as he turns it over he feels his face go pink all over again.  
  
     _Next time you're bored, we'll keep your mouth busy. You talk too much._


End file.
